My impatience led to my signing up for the
Nationwide Children's Hospital Columbus Marathon & 1/2Marathon in an effort to quell my need to replace my lackluster virgin half marathon with a
Hugh Hefner-like, been-there-done-that type 13.1 miles. I think what annoyed me most about the first one was that I had training runs where I had ran faster...oh, did I mention I'm a bit competitive?
(41 going on 14...that's me)
For example, the Friday following the initial half, I ran my own 13.1 route and did it in 1:36:47 (7:22 pace). Not my fastest, but three minutes faster than the race in Celina -
ridiculous. Obviously, I have to work on pacing, but I can't help but be overeager...its in my nature. I have been playing with a
race split calculator I found online to get a better idea of how
NOT to take off like a banshee and finish like an original Keurig machine struggling to push water through pod number 1,000. And actually putting such things into action is whole other story.
My attempt to answer to this quandary? ...
repeats...of the half-mile and mile variety, as well as progression runs. I've never been one to follow a suggested workout word for word, but I did take pieces of some
speed workouts from
www.runnersworld.com and mix them in with what I remember from my college running days
(holy crap...its been 20 years?!). These are easier said than done, but as long as you aren't passive aggressive about them - and actually
do it - you are holding up your end of the bargain.
That reminds me - speaking of passive aggressive - my next door neighbors in my building, Bob and his lovely (whack job) wife, apparently have issues with my ability to be...well...you know...
human. He has an oxygen tank he has to lug around along with a cane to assist in getting from here to there, I couldn't imagine the struggle he gets to deal with on a daily basis. He does get out quite a bit, just slow and methodically. His wife rarely gets out, but can be heard echoing throughout our building - usually complaining about any and everything described elegantly with clusters of F-word variations. They used to ask for my assistance on a few things and I was happy to oblige. Then, unfortunately, it became an everyday (several times a day) thing. I had somehow become their personal home health aid and (sometimes) bank.
To combat this, I started telling them
"No" or
"I can't". Suddenly, they began to ignore me and I was satisfied with the fact they had picked up on my hints to stop using me as their crutch. Instead of just simply finding other means of assistance, they began to retaliate. Not viciously, but in the way an eight-year old would do so. This included my mail being taken out of my mailbox and thrown on the floor, their Mountain Dew cans tossed into the bushes and garden I maintain (and manicure) for our landlord and cranking up their video games as loud as they can get them.
...Video games?
Yes, this 60-ish couple has grown accustomed to playing
Ms. Pac-Man &
Pac-Man at all hours of the day with W.J. (whack job) yelling out and referring to the games ghost villains Inky, Blinky, Pinky & Clyde has
"bitches" and to Sue as
"you stupid whore" when they apparently catch up to her. Now, I can sort of understand this - I, too, was just as into this game at one time. The only difference being I was about seven and it was 1982
(that does not mean finding one of these arcade games around today would require an hour so break in order to pump quarters into it, nostalgia can be a guilty pleasure).
I lent Bob a book awhile back,
Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential, and it was pseudo returned this last week. And by "returned" I mean tossed within a three foot radius of my door. Not up against my door or in a bag hanging on my doorknob, but in a position like it may have been dropped by a passerby. I guess I should be thankful he had the wherewithal to at least fling it toward my apartment.
At the moment W.J. and Bob keep taking the floor mat in front of my door. I've found it tossed out our building's front door, laying in the trash, tossed down the basement stairs or it just disappears into oblivion. Since not all of the apartments are occupied, I just replace those that go missing with one of the others. And they, too, will disappear a short time later. I imagine the apartment next door is somehow being insulated by a variety of random floor mats,
Art Deco style. Just think of all the cigarettes (yes, she still smokes in their apartment despite Bob's need for oxygen because he simply can't breathe on his own),
Totino's Party Pizza and Mountain Dew they could buy if their floor decorating skills became a hit?!
Moral of the story...say what you mean, do what you say, get things done and speak your mind - don't be a W.J. or oxygen thief.
So...attempting to go slower at the beginning of a run takes some getting used to and is awkward to me, but it does feel better speeding up in the middle of each run when you are loose and warmed up. This is easy to do when running alone, but doing it while running with others is hard. A few weeks of playing with progression running (along with reaching the 1,000 mile mark for the year, hitting run number 200 of 2017 and reaching 19,000 feet in total elevation in that time period) had me excited for half marathon part deux.
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2017 Nationwide Children's Hospital
Columbus 1/2 Marathon Route
|
As with the initial 13.1, there would be some exquisite scenery to occupy the eyes. Starting in
North Bank Park we maneuver through downtown Columbus to the
Ohio State House and head east along historic
Route 40 (Broad Street) and into the suburb of
Bexley. Then its a slow, methodical u-turn to the right for a return trip west to take us past
Franklin Park Conservatory and Botanical Gardens followed by a jaunt through the
Olde Town East neighborhood before heading south to
Nationwide Children's Hospital. The group then wraps around the hospital to venture further west into
German Village before heading south to circle the cities' second oldest park,
Schiller Park. From there it is onto High Street to the west - Columbus' main artery - for a long straight stretch north passing through the
Brewery District and downtown (along with passing the Ohio State House a second time) to finish back at North Bank Park in the shadow of
Nationwide Arena and
Huntington Park. I thought, if I could reach 1:35:00 at minimum (barring any catastrophes), I would be satisfied.
Though, as with all races, assumptions and expectations change...and change quickly. Sometimes its the race, sometimes its the week leading up to it and other times - it's both.
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The weekend before, while on a long run, I felt some tenderness in my right calf. Not too worried about it, I continued on. The very next day, on a short Sunday run, it arrived with full force: a calf strain. I attempted some light running/jogging in the days afterward, but it wouldn't allow for it. All I could do was apply ice to reduce swelling, then heat to keep it loose - and apparently compression is a big key. So I bought calf compression sleeves to at least be more comfortable while on my feet at work, and it was. Still a bit tender (but not quite as painful), I was hoping I could improve before the coming of Sunday's half marathon. With it being Wednesday, I had nearly four full days before the race and wearing the compression sleeve 24/7 with light stretching and ice application ever so often.
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| "Repairs of most kinds" |
That night, I had to call the
Marion County Court of Common Pleas Jury Duty line to see if my requested civic duty would be needed (I received the notice in the mail the previous week). The automated message indicated the case I was to be associate with would, in fact, be going on.
So Thursday morning, I arrive at 8:30 and listen to the bailiff's instructions before being tabbed as juror number 9. We then wait...
for two hours. During this time I tried to keep to myself and relax, but Marty would have none of it. Marty, juror number 3, wanted to chat. Ignoring him didn't work, so I entertained his
rambling for a few minutes. Come to find out Marty is self-employed and runs a home maintenance business and let us (the jurors) know
several times he would be losing $200 a day by having to be there. Oh, and I almost forgot, he has a side business - selling handmade soaps at trade shows and such.
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My view from jury box seat
number nine. |
I was only casually annoyed, but felt honored that ol' Marty did offer (force upon) his business card before finding another juror to pester. Now nearly 10:30, we finally rise as Judge William R. Finnegan takes a seat. He proceeds to explain his appreciation for our willingness to do our civic duty, but despite the fact we are ready to go...the two sides involved have settled out of court (or just outside of the courtroom
that morning, as it would be). So two hours of hanging out at the historic
Marion County Courthouse resulted in a $12 jury duty check for having to suffer through Maintenance Marty and a hook-up for my next soap purchase.
On Friday -
October 13th no less - (two days before half marathon part deux), I had to bite the bullet and attempt to run - even the slightest jog. Not an easy thing to do since, psychologically, I will want to avoid putting pressure on the calf muscle - but I had to rip the band-aid off. So, after work I put it to the test hoping I could get some frame of reference for Sunday. Running on eggs shells I took my sweet time and covered
3.78 miles in 27:58 (7:24). The calf was still a little tender, but I could run with actual form -
BOOM! I should be able to do my own thing on Sunday and not attempt to set the world on fire. I did notice, though, I paid 1,000% attention to any, all and every crack, pebble and less-than-smooth surface in my path. I'll be damned if I re-injure myself. With that, I would be idle till Sunday's race and use Saturday to visit the race expo for packet pickup.
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| Race SWAG shirt & Bib |
Arriving prior to sunrise I hangout stretching, warming up and peeing (several times) with the 18,000 half & full marathoners. Being in group "A" meant I had the privilege of starting up front. This meant I got to see the eventual winners for a half-second before they disappeared. We had the fireworks, then the gun and we are off. Not having run a race of this magnitude before, I spent the first quarter mile navigating through the masses of people. Once we reach the larger streets (beginning with High Street), the lanes open up. I take to the outside to give myself room on the turns, as the lemmings tend to cram into one another and stay in the middle.
We then turn to the left onto Broad Street and I hug the curve along the pedestrian fencing, but just as I do several spectators are hanging over the fence to gawk and I (unintentionally) bump up against a female spectators arm. She isn't looking anywhere near the course and I'm sure it scared the crap out of her. We hit hard enough that I though I heard my watch turn off. Luckily that was not the case. No one was hurt, but this did end up being a reoccurring theme throughout the race. Several times I would come super close to, or brush up against, spectators stepping onto or leaning into (or standing on) the course. For the love - GET OFF THE COURSE - or just pay attention.
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Downtown Columbus
Streetscape |
After re-gathering my bearings, I find some rhythm. I skip the first water stop because I'm feeling good and at the 7k mark I'm at 29:08. Still a little too fast for my taste, but not crazy fast. I hit all the remaining water stops, essentially swishing Gatorade and spitting it out, then sipping some water and pouring the rest of it down my back. Not familiar with in-race fueling, this was the best way for me to keep from choking or hacking through liquids while running. I haven't passed many people, but have maintained position. Eyeing a few familiar folks near me and just ahead would keep me abreast of where I was in regards to placement.
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Me in the gray with the visor. Moments before my calf
decided it was unhappy racing |
Some fatigue began to set in around mile seven, as some of those familiar folks started to distance themselves. The 3:05:00 marathon pacer (and his followers) slide by me and I smile, thinking
you poor bastards, I'M nearly finished. At the 15k time post, I'm at 1:06:50. I'm definitely feeling the fatigue now, but my form is good and my pace is better than I imagined (and better than three weeks ago). Then just after mile 10 (and passing the cheering girlfriend for a second time), my calf reminds me it isn't 100 percent. With Schiller Park just ahead, I feel the pull and then the pain shoot through my leg.
"Son of a bitch", is the thought that runs through my head.
I slowdown, but keep going with a somewhat exaggerated limp and hoping the pain would subside. A few steps later, I can still feel it but it isn't excruciating and I can still run with some sort of form. Though, I have obviously slowed - and ecstatic I didn't have to come to a complete stop. With a 5k still to go, all I could do was focus on form and attempt to stride. It did, however, suck to watch what seemed like hundreds of folks pass me
(that number ended up being 78, but it felt like hundreds).
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| On the Scioto Mile with my finisher's medal |
Grinding my way through the remaining two miles and the half/full marathon split, I just wanted to reach the finish. Luckily, it arrives (finally) and I see out of the corner of my eye a time of 1:37: - something or other. And, unlike the last time, I remember to stop my watch. I step across the finish and I'm in a sea of red clad medical personnel. Exhausted, I glance around and they are sort of just standing there. I take a few more steps, glancing around looking for some refreshment and ask, "water...?"
I continue dragging my worn out body forward and notice about 10 to 15 yards ahead of me a couple of tables loaded with bottles of water, along with folks handing out finishers medals. I get my medal, guzzle a bottle of water and take another for later, and pose for a couple of exhausted post-race pictures. I'm then handed a plastic bag and walk through the gauntlet of snack stations, it was like a runner's trick-or-treat. I walk out of the participant only area with my medal and plastic bag overflowing with snacks, fruit, protein bars and samples of what not.
My official time: 1:37:06 (303rd out of 9,625 finishers, 27th in my age group). Though, the last three mile splits were :30 seconds (or more) slower than the previous ten (7:51, 8:12, 7:49). The calf strain put a dent into the last quarter of my race, but I still finished more than
2:30 faster than my initial half marathon just three weeks before.
Two half marathons in three weeks, each under 1:40:00. Hard to complain, but I need to be more consistent. And my half-marathon PR - technically - is still one I ran by myself as practice around Marion (1:36:28). I will be hitting some shorter races in the next few weeks, hoping to keep my enthusiasm above sea level and my right calf from disintegrating.
As the holiday season revs it's engine (October through January), Ohio's unpredictable weather will surely follow suit. And like the postal worker, the runner mission hits high gear -
Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor grade of incline stays these harriers from the swift completion of their miles on time...
...or some crap like that -
Run On friends!
***Super fun race day photo collection from Lauren McComas below (THANKS L!)****
Let it never be said
The Romance is dead
'Cause there's so little else
Occupying my head
There is nothing I need
except the function to breathe
But I'm not really fussed
Doesn't matter to me
Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby
Do you, do you, do you, do you
Know what you're doing, doing, to me
Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby
Due to lack of interest
Tomorrow is canceled
Let the clocks be reset
And the pendulums held
'Cause there's nothing at all
Except the space in-between
Finding out what you're called
And repeating your name
Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby
Do you, do you, do you, do you
Know what you're doing, doing, to me
Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby
Could it be, could it be
That you're joking with me?
And you don't really see you and me [x2]
Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby
Do you, do you, do you, do you
Know what you're doing, doing, to me
Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby
Do you, do you, do you, do you
